


Flowers For You

by brovary



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brovary/pseuds/brovary
Summary: There’s a certain tattoo artist that Dimitri has been watching through the window of the flower shop where he works, and his staring has been noticed. He can’t imagine just walking up to someone he’s never met and striking up a conversation for no reason, no matter how attractive the artist in question may be. Lucky for him, he does have a reason.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	Flowers For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ksd_esign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksd_esign/gifts).



> Written for G (@ksd_esign on Twitter) through the DimiClaude Gift Exchange (@dimiclaudegifts on Twitter)

“Is that guy out there drawing again?” Dimitri startles at the sound of Ashe’s voice, whipping around to face him. The smaller man puts his hands up in mock defense. “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Dimitri sighs as Ashe comes over to the store’s front window, getting up on his toes to peer out over the display. “I would say _surprised_ more than _scared_ ….” 

As Ashe suspected, a young man is sitting in front of the tattoo parlor across the street with a sketchpad propped on his thighs. His attention flits from whatever it is he’s drawing to the display and back, continuing to go in that back and forth motion every once in a while. Dimitri has always assumed he’s sketching the flowers, considering that’s what the display in question holds. 

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Ashe says, stepping back from the window. “You’re always staring at him, you know.” Dimitri hopes that the heat in his face doesn’t mean he’s turning red, but knowing him, it probably _does_ mean that. Was it obvious? He didn’t think it was obvious. Although he _has_ been told that subtlety isn’t his strong suit….

“I can’t just go over and talk to him for no reason.”

“Haven’t you been saying you want to get that tattoo on your arm removed?” Now Dimitri’s _definitely_ turning red, a hand clapping over the embarrassing mark on his bicep as though it isn’t covered by his sleeve. Ashe is kind, not laughing at him for the humiliating reaction. But with how he’s smiling a little wider and biting his lip slightly, Dimitri can tell that he has to put effort into it. “Why don’t you just get it covered up with something else? It’ll take less time, and it tends to be more effective than laser treatments. Less expensive too, unless it’s a big one.”

It’s a decent enough idea…but can Dimitri actually make himself do that? Ashe knowing about the tattoo on his arm is one thing. Dimitri knows him—he’s a good friend—and he’s never actually _seen it_. But getting it covered up means he has to show it to someone. And the suggestion implies that he’ll have to show it to the man he’s apparently been very clearly staring at, with Ashe and possibly others in the store being aware of said staring. 

“Come on,” Ashe urges, “I’m sure there’s _plenty_ of worse tattoo choices out there than what you’ve got now.” It’s true that it’s not the _worst_ tattoo choice Dimitri’s ever heard of, but the fact that it’s on his body makes it feel that way. And what will it say about him? He’s sure that the man across the street has met people who’ve had similar tattoos in the past, and he can only imagine what their personalities are like. 

Dimitri looks at Ashe. He looks a little overexcited for something as simple as him going to talk to an attractive stranger. Well…maybe the fact that he wants to get rid of this embarrassing mark will prove that he doesn’t act like the sorts of people who’d be the kind of person to get the sort of tattoo he carries. He doesn’t act like that _anymore_ , at least. 

“Okay, okay….” It doesn’t take more than a second after Dimitri nervously takes the advice he’s been given for Ashe to all but push him towards the front door. He has no idea why he’s so eager, and the energy he’s giving off makes Dimitri all the more worried about agreeing to do this. 

“Take all the time you need,” he says. “It’s not busy right now, so don’t worry about it.” The shop is experiencing a bit of a lull at the moment. Not because business is bad—far from it. It’s just a time of day where not many people are coming in to get flowers, and they don’t have any events that require bringing arrangements to a venue and setting them up scheduled for the day.

The bell above the door jingles as Dimitri steps out onto the curb. He nearly forgets what he’s out there to do and gets caught up in staring at the other. But he remembers that Ashe said his staring was painfully obvious, so he tries not to look directly at him as he crosses the street. (He needs to be paying attention to traffic anyway, which helps him to not sneak glances that might be noticed.)

Once he’s on the sidewalk opposite from the flower shop, though, his eyes are all for the other. He’s never seen him up close. It’s not as though watching him from across the street meant he didn’t have a decent idea of what he looks like, but…it’s different up close. Dimitri can see that he has earbuds in from here, and that there’s gold piercings in his left ear. Maybe there’s more in his right…? He has no idea from this angle. He can’t get a great look at his face, either, although he can see brown-black hair lining his jaw, very deliberately shaved to look neat, accentuating its soft angles. He carries a few tattoos of his own. An extremely intricate, swirling design with writing in a language Dimitri can’t identify wraps around his upper left arm alongside a dragon of some sort, with a bow and arrow on the inside of his right wrist. It proceeds the words ‘ _Scale the Walls and Rupture the Heavens_ ’. He can also see hints of another tattoo further up on that same arm, although he isn’t able to identify what it is exactly.

And as he slowly walks closer, Dimitri can see what he’s been drawing. It’s definitely one of the arrangements on display in the shop window, although it’s not photorealistic. There’s clear lineart on the flowers and leaves, and there’s different lighting, he thinks. The bouquets they have out seem to be serving as a reference to see details such as how the petals curl, rather than being an exact model. Even if it’s not an exact replica of what they have out, he’s good— _very_ good. 

“Like it?” A sudden voice makes Dimitri jump, which gets the other to turn around to look at him. He has a lopsided smile on his face, and…green eyes. Bright green. He could never tell what color they were from across the way. “Stylized, I know,” he says, taking out his earbuds and holding up the sketchpad for Dimitri to see better. “If photorealism is more your thing, you should ask for Ignatz. He’s amazing at that sort of thing.”

Dimitri tries to figure out what to say, unable to take the book as he struggles to find his words. “You knew I was watching?”

“I’ve seen you in the window plenty of times.”

Dimitri can’t see his own face, but he’s certain that he flushes all the way to the tips of his ears. He guesses that he _really isn’t_ subtle. _God_ , he must think that he’s a creep or a stalker or something….

The other stands up, closing his drawing pad to tuck it under his arm. He’s about shoulder height with Dimitri—only a little higher. “Well,” he says, holding out a hand, “nice to finally meet you. Call me Claude.”

Getting caught up on the fact that he can see the tattoo on his right arm now—a magnificent buck with massive antlers—it takes a moment for Dimitri to find his sensibility again and remember that he’s supposed to shake Claude’s hand. He clasps it in his own and manages to put a smile on his face. He thinks the fact that Claude’s own grin is so easy makes it less difficult for him to do that. “Dimitri.”

“Got a strong grip there, big guy.”

“ _Sorry!_ ” He immediately loosens his grip, feeling like he’s humiliating himself more and more by the minute. That sudden shout hasn’t done him any favors, he’s sure. “S-sorry…. I’ve been told I don’t know my own strength.”

“No harm done.” 

Dimitri tries desperately to try not to focus on everything he’s messed up so far and instead focus on having a normal conversation. “So…you work here? As an artist?” He intentionally leaves out the part about how he’s always seen him stop drawing and head into the tattoo parlor at the same time every day. That would sound _horrifically_ stalker-like. 

“You got it.” While he’d really rather not bring up what Ashe suggested, Dimitri reasons with himself that it’ll make him having watched Claude day after day after day sound much less creepy. 

“Well…” he starts, clearly uneasy. He finds himself covering the humiliating area on his arm, “this is going to sound embarrassing, but…I’ve got a tattoo that I’m not exactly proud of. I was thinking about getting it removed, but a friend suggested looking into having it covered up, instead.”

“Say no more.” Claude motions for Dimitri to follow him. “C’mon in. We don’t charge for curiosity.”

A bell chimes above the door to the shop—a door with the glass having ‘ _GD Ink_ ’ in gorgeous yellow calligraphy written onto it—as Claude pushes it open, holding it open for Dimitri. Stepping into the parlor, it looks…more or less like a typical tattoo shop. The walls are cleanly split into sections of drywall and brick. Numerous pieces of art of all kinds have been framed and hung on it. Looking them over, he sees calligraphy much like what could be found on the front door, stunningly realistic landscapes and faces, and…Dimitri spots some with flowers that he recognizes as Claude’s style from before. He _thinks_ some of the other art is his, too, based on how it’s been drawn. 

A small woman with the whitest hair Dimitri has ever seen and strange runes tattooed on her hands is sitting at the front desk, handling some sort of exchange with a client, while a blond man who must be the most impressive figure Dimitri’s ever seen (besides Dedue, perhaps) is handling some kind of heavy lifting. A redhead with her hair in a ponytail and tattoos all over her body—full sleeves, around her collarbones and all the way up her neck—is bent over a client, completely absorbed in her work. As he walks by, he can see that she’s coloring in the finished lineart of a semi-realistic dragon. “That’s Leonie,” Claude explains to Dimitri. “She does a lot of fantasy pieces. Plus some hand-poke, which is no small feat.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not if you’re a professional who’s using sterile equipment. If you know what you’re doing, individual needles are no worse than a machine.” That makes enough sense. Dimitri continues to follow Claude further back into the shop, pointing out the other artists. 

“That there is Ignatz, who does some amazing realism.” He doesn’t look like your typical tattoo artist, big, round glasses and neat hair. He gives Dimitri a smile and a wave before turning back to a sketch he’s working on. “Then we’ve got Lorenz, who does practically all of our calligraphy, plus some other text-based art.” Claude says something in a language Dimitri doesn’t know, but it seems like Lorenz knows _exactly_ what he said, giving him a light smack to the arm with the back of his hand as they pass. “They’re not here right now, but our other artists are Hilda and Marianne.”

Claude leads Dimitri back into a small office room, the two of them sitting across from one another at a table. Honestly, the whole tabletop is…a bit of a mess, all notebooks and folders and three-ring binders in no particular system, or at least not one Dimitri can make sense of. He wonders if Claude is someone who has trouble organizing things, since this seems like it’s his personal workspace.

“ _So_ ,” Claude says, clapping his hands on his thighs, “let’s hear more about this tattoo of yours. Would you be willing to show it to me?”

Just as he was starting to feel less embarrassed…. But Dimitri supposes that he needs to know what they’re working with. He knows that his deep breath in and his sigh are very noticeable, but that’s the least of his worries right now. Hesitantly, he turns his body so that Claude can get a better look at his arm as he rolls up his sleeve to expose the tattoo in question, while simultaneously turning his head away so that he doesn’t have to see Claude’s expression when he reveals the awful body art. 

While the very thinly lined tattoo was _meant_ to be a roaring lion, frankly, it doesn’t look like one. He stupidly didn’t take care of it properly after he got it (as though how he went about getting it wasn’t stupid enough), which meant that his friends had to drag him to the emergency room because of an infection. The whole thing ruined what was, in hindsight, already hideous.

Instead of saying anything that Dimitri might have expected Claude to say, what he opts for is, “Infected hand-poke? Done by a friend or something?” 

“Is it that obvious…?”

“Well, if anyone did work _this shoddy_ in my parlor, I would expect some pretty nasty reviews,” he says. “The lineart could be a hell of a lot better, for one thing. Plus there’s some obvious scarring and warping from whatever you had there.” Claude pointing out all of the imperfections in the terrible art makes Dimitri feel even _more_ self-conscious about it…but at least Claude has the heart to say, “Makes sense why you don’t want it anymore. Even if it was better quality, the art doesn’t really suit you, I think.”

“Honestly, I’m glad to hear that. I…wasn’t in a great place when I got it.” Dimitri doesn’t like to look back on those five years very much. They weren’t kind to him, to say the least. He’s left most of it in the past, but the tattoo is one of the lingering remnants of a time in his life he’d much rather forget. “Do you think it can be covered up?”

“Lucky you,” Claude says, “the lines are thin and light, so it should be a breeze to conceal.” _Thank God…._ Being told that he can finally be rid of this awful thing, on top of finally getting to meet Claude, makes all of the throwing himself under the bus that he’s done today feel more like it’s worth it. “What did you have in mind? All of the artists here specialize in different styles, so I’m sure we can find you someone who’ll be able to design what you’re hoping for.”

Oh. Right. To cover it up, he’ll need a new piece of art. “Well…I’ll be honest: I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“No worries,” Claude says. “You don’t have to make a decision today. You can think it over for as long as you like. If you want, I can show you some of the artists’ portfolios to give you a better idea as to what sort of services we offer here. Maybe it’ll inspire you.”

“That would be wonderful, actually.” 

Claude starts going through the mess of various forms of paper on his desk, taking out a few of the three-ring binders he has on the table, labeled with the various artists’ names to better set them all apart. “Okay,” he says, flipping through the pages of art kept neatly in plastic sleeves, “I already told you about what some of the people here do, so let’s start with Marianne and Hilda, since they’re not here….”

* * *

_“Okay, Dimitri,”_ Claude says, grinning as he wipes down the skin of his upper arm, now-reddened from a good few hours of needles and ink, “all finished. You’re a trooper for someone who’s a _kinda-sorta_ tattoo virgin. Don’t know if that crummy one from before really counts.”

Dimitri laughs. The whole thing hurt, but he thinks he’s got decent pain tolerance. “Good riddance to that old thing.”

Claude lets out a laugh of his own. “Good riddance is right. Let me just finish cleaning you off, then we’ll get a wrap on it and you can take a real look-see.”

Once the shiny plastic has been laid over the fresh ink, Dimitri stands up from the chair he’s spent the past few hours in. “Got a mirror right there,” Claude says, pointing to one hung up on the wall next to them. Dimitri turns to get a better look at his arm. While he had already seen the design that Claude had come up with when they met earlier in the day, having it on his skin and not having to look at that hideous relic of his past is… _amazing_.

They decided to stick with the lion motif after Dimitri explained that it was a part of his family’s crest way back when the Blaiddyds weren’t just everyday people. But they made a few significant changes. Most obviously is the fact that it’s a clearly professional work of art, covering much more of his arm, with clean lines and beautiful colors. Claude drew the lion with its mouth closed, offering a much more docile appearance. And surrounding it, as well as being worked into the lion’s mane, are a plethora of flowers. They decided on bright blue violets. Claude suggested that Dimitri choose flowers that he felt had meaning to him, and the idea of violets—one of the first flowers to bloom after the winter—spoke to him. A new beginning. The end of a long, cold season.

“Whaddaya think, big guy?” Claude asks. “Like it more than that messy old thing, I hope.”

Dimitri smiles wider than he has in…God only knows when, looking back to Claude. “It’s perfect. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

At the front desk, Dimitri pays for the remainder of the cost after the initial deposit, and Claude starts writing on a piece of paper. “These are instructions for you to make sure that _this one_ doesn’t get infected. Make sure you follow ‘em, yeah?”

“I will.” 

Claude folds up the paper before passing it to Dimitri. “Hey. I’m really happy I was able to help you. I mean that.” Dimitri takes the paper from his hand. He thinks that if he smiles for much longer, he’s going to pull a good few muscles in his face. As for Claude, he can’t help but think that…he doesn’t remember him having dimples. His smile looks a little different; a bit wider. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? You don’t have to stare through that window if you wanna see me.”

“No staring. Got it. Thanks again, Claude.” The two of them wave at each other before Dimitri heads out the door. 

He told everyone else at the flower shop that he might be a little behind showing up, which nobody had a problem with. Least of all Ashe, who was _ecstatic_ to find out that Dimitri was getting the cover-up, and that he was getting it from Claude, specifically. He _still_ isn’t entirely sure why he seemed so thoroughly thrilled by the whole thing. When he told Ingrid, she’d rolled her eyes, although he thinks that she might have gotten _equally excited_ when he explained everything.

“Hey, Dimitri!” Sylavain calls out to him as he walks in. “Man, a real smile looks great on you. Things went that well, huh?”

“Look and see for yourself.” 

Sylvain comes over, Dimitri rolling up his sleeve to display the art. The redhead lets out an impressed whistle. “ _Damn_ , that’s a hell of a lot better than what you had before. Glad that hideous thing is over with. Shoulda never let some rando tattoo you at his skeevy apartment.”

“I know, I know. You’ve only told me how many times?” Despite the reminder and Sylvain’s laugh, Dimitri can’t really bring himself to be upset or ashamed, at least not in that exact moment. He’s sure that he’ll get red and hot about it if it’s brought up to him again some time later, when he _doesn’t_ feel like he’s on cloud nine.

Dimitri steps behind the front desk to man the register, slipping into his apron before leaning on the counter. He figures he should probably take a look at those instructions Claude gave him sooner rather than later. Unfolding the paper, he realizes…that most of the instructions were already printed on it. Looking back on it, he sort of noticed that, but he hadn’t been thinking about it. Maybe Claude felt that he needed some sort of extra steps or something, considering the fact that it was a piece done over not just skin that had been tattooed before, but skin that had some scar tissue.

Sylvain turns around quickly when he hears Dimitri slam the paper back down against the desk, heating up at what’s written there. “ _Jesus_ , man, you good?” He doesn’t know what to say. But he’s certain that Sylvain notices how red his face must be getting. He walks over, trying to get a look at the paper that’s got him so speechless, but Dimitri quickly snatches it away from his grip. The grin that slowly spreads across Sylvain’s face isn’t one that Dimitri likes. “What does that say…?” 

The tone of his voice implies that he’s got a _pretty good idea_ of what it is. Dimitri can hardly stand the fact that, if he knows Sylvain—which he most certainly does—he’s got one idea on his mind, and it’s the correct one. 

He figures that he’ll find out sooner or later, and if he keeps being dodgy, Sylvain will just harass him more about it. “ _Promise_ you won’t be weird about it.”

“Cross my heart.” He doesn’t really believe Sylvain, but he tentatively holds out the paper anyway. It’s only a few seconds later that he realizes he was entirely correct in his assumption that he was lying. 

Dimitri puts his head in his hands as Sylvain laughs. “No fucking way! Oh man, Ingrid’s gonna _flip_! This is, like, right outta one of her fanfics!” Oh. _Oh._ That’s why she and Ashe were so excited.

Dimitri groans into his hands. The traitorous paper has the shop’s phone number crossed out, with a different one written towards the bottom:

 _(XXX) XXX-XXXX_  
 _Call me sometime, Big Guy. I’ll get you some real flowers next time. _;) _  
-Claude_

**Author's Note:**

> Most people who know my typical writing style know that fluff isn’t my usual genre (I’m so far from used to being able to say that a work of mine is for general audiences/has no trigger warnings), and I definitely can’t say that I’ve tried my hand at this specific AU before. But I was very excited to get G’s prompt list, had a lot of fun putting this together for the exchange, and can only hope that I did it justice! May you enjoy having read this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
